


Uninvited

by ravengabrielle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: Dramione FanFiction Forum, Community: dramionedrabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravengabrielle/pseuds/ravengabrielle
Summary: OneShot. AU. The Slug Club Christmas Party was meant to be for fun. Yet Hermione Granger is forced to use it as a battleground of her revenge when she is rejected by the date she wanted to take. Now she is dressed to kill and ready for a bloody finish. But whose blood will be at the end of it all? Rated K +. Dramione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 122
Collections: Dramione





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired by the music video of the song “Boyfriend” by Ariana Grande and Social House.

Hermione brimmed with anger as she twisted her soft curls into place against her shoulders. The dusk pink dress cut low into her cleavage. It was bound to catch her dates attention. Wooly, turtleneck sweaters did that. Now it was time for the girls to seal the deal.  
Her throat groaned as she laid the delicate silver pearl necklace at her neck. The cool metal did little to cool the fury of her skin.   
If he wanted to be a bloody wanker, she’d let him. That was his choice.  
She was determined to show him just how ruthless she could be. Her body was donned in a menacing disguise of a willing, eager witch with intentions beyond the conspiracy of vengeance. Who would suspect little ole her to have ulterior motives? After all, she was their golden girl. Above such games.  
It was her time to show just how dirty she could play.   
“Let’s see how you like this,” she muttered to herself.  
“What’s that?” One of her roommates asked.  
“Nothing.” Her voice sang in forced pleasantry rather than the strangled sound of revenge.   
That was what she was after.  
Revenge.  
Her feet slipped into the pink pumps with a show of resistance at the forced height of her heels. She lured them softly with promises of his kisses against them soon enough. And if he didn’t, she might just rightfully kick his arse.   
She’d bought the dress in the hopes that it might be worn on a date out to Hogsmeade, once he’d gathered enough courage to admit he had feelings for her. They’d only batted around the bush every single day. She gave him hints. He acted as though he received them. The wizard was not daft!   
Of course, that tail tucked between his legs and he ran for cover. That was expected and unexpected.  
There was one way to remind him just what he missed: A Slug Club Christmas Party.  
Hermione gave herself a final once over. Everything was in place. The makeup was simple, but a stark difference to her usual face. She rather liked the shimmer above her eyelid. Not that she’d admit that to her friends. Harry would snicker about it. Ginny would just overwhelm her with needed additions.   
Godric, she wished she had a better plan. Or, one that didn’t require so much on her part.   
Her date was incorrigible, persistent, arrogant. Come to think of it, he wasn’t so different than the one she actually wanted to attend with. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all. This way she might enjoy herself more than usual. Revenge was a sweet taste.  
One last thing. Violet red lipstick. She pushed the hue against her flesh. It gave a provocative glow to her face as she was all too pleased with how irresistible she looked. Her mirror cheered her on as she twirled around in it’s sliver reflection.   
Hermione glided down the dormitory stairs, each step deeper in resolution. She summoned up every ounce of allure she had. Her eyes fluttered dense black lashes. She pursed her lips ever so slight. The light was sure to glint off their shiny, red flesh. She became aware of her hips. They swayed farther than normal as she approached her date, who awaited in the common room with a side smirk on his face.  
His lips parted. Desire filled his eyes. The red tongue inside his mouth ran along them before it tucked back away.  
Vomit lurched to the back of her throat. She reminded herself exactly why she was with him in the first place.   
Cormac McLaggen was a Gryffindor wizard a year ahead. He wore his formal suit, complete with a soft grey tie. His hair was tousled and teased in a playboy way. There was a strength in his eye that she found repugnant. It traveled the course of her body, every inch investigated at his leisure as she stood there, forced to appear aroused by his obvious lust.  
Means to an end.  
“I’m fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on Earth tonight.” He bit his lower lip. Something that muggle and wizards alike thought was sexy.  
Vomit. Real vomit coated her tongue. It rose in hot bubbly floods.   
She swallowed it back down with a sweet – too sweet – smile. “Well, I’m waiting.”  
Happiest? She’d be downright thrilled if the evening played out as she expected it to.   
Cormac offered out his arm. She slid it between his body, disgusted by the warmth of his body touching hers, and allowed herself to be led through the corridors of the castle to Slughorn’s office where the was at. They were shy of the full swing of the party, but Hermione preferred early rather than late.   
The ceiling was tented with emerald, gold and crimson. It was a blaring contrast to every party she attended, where simple color palettes were chosen as to not disrupt the guests. Slughorn held no reservations about style. It was all very much of his dated, swing type décor that he dressed similarly to. She did happen to like the ornate lamp at the center of the room. The fairies were a bit much, but easy to look at when she needed a moment to compose herself.  
They were thrust within the group of their peers. She tried to lose Cormac right away but he was like a leech. He stuck around. And his head towered over everyone else’s. There was little escape.  
Godric, grant the strength to withstand killing the wizard. It would deeply impact her plans.  
She put on a face of feign interest in her date as they mingled with the other members. Blaise Zabini was quiet. He held an equally silent date on his arm. Both were dressed in dark grey and a lush burgundy. They stared with no reservations of how their gazes were interpreted.   
Once she caught Blaise’s stare, much by accident, and his eyes fluttered to the familiar grasp of Cormac on the back of her thigh. It sent chills down her spine. They needed more convincing.  
She turned to her date and laughed at one of his stories. He was all too pleased by her receptive nature. It sped his breath when she slipped her hand against his chest subtly.   
Although she was thoroughly convinced that Blaise believed her interest, it backfired. Her date now invited himself to parts of her body that she fully reserved for herself. She bit back that growing fury.   
Cormac’s constant touch brought the edge of rage rather close throughout the evening. He ran his fingers down the thigh of her dress. Then his hand touched hers ‘accidently’ before he helped himself to holding onto her waist. Because of his height, this left much of his body flush with hers.  
Her sweet smile stung her face as she displayed it to everyone she could. Revenge. She repeated the word within her mind as a reminder of what good would come, what satisfaction there was to be had from her disgusting date that required none of his physical body touching hers.  
Imagine his face. Think of what he’ll say when he hears just how happy she was at the party. Imagine how it’ll eat him up inside to know she was able to find another wizard interested so quick.  
He’d come back. He couldn’t keep away. His ego wouldn’t allow another to conquer something he believed only he had the right to.   
Slughorn greeted the pair with a smile laced with liquor. He was done in already.   
“Mister McLaggen and Miss Granger. So glad you could come,” the professor said. A half empty drink swirled in his hand as he swayed. “Charming to see the two of you together. I always thought there was something amiss about the way you chase one another.”  
Chase? Chase!   
Hermione’s eyes bulged as the professor staggered to the side. He only stopped when his hand found a column and anchored him to steady ground.  
Cormac chuckled. “Yes, well. Granger likes to play hard to get. It’s a part of our little game.”  
She withheld her audible gasp and denial. It did not matter. Cormac saying so did not make it true. She was there for a reason. It was her mission, her revenge, that demanded she have the best time with Cormac so much so that it was spread around the castle about her obvious attraction to him.   
His hold on her tightened. She felt the gentle swell of his erection at her back.   
“I need a drink,” she said suddenly.  
The tassel of Professor Slughorn’s cap fell across his face. He swatted it away after a few shaky attempts.   
“Over there, my dear,” he said. “Enjoy yourselves.”  
Beyond the refreshment table, she witnessed Harry and Luna enter the party. She practically yelped out of Cormac’s hold. “I should go say hello to Harry.”  
Hermione gave him no chance to answer. She plunged through the growing crowd of students in attendance and other guests Slughorn invited. They gave her soft greetings as she passed.  
“Hello. Hello. Yes, thank you. I like your shoes, too.” She nodded with each compliment. It slowed her pace. She was determined to sprint into Harry’s arms.   
Luna was adorned in a silvery pink ruffled dress with black tights beneath. It was much to the garish style the witch liked. She held the starry-eyed wandering gaze that was difficult to pull to attention.  
Hermione did her best by the loud greeting. “Hello Harry. Hello Luna.” The she leaned in and whispered, “Help me. Cormac is all over me. I think I just lost him.”  
She scanned the crowd. Sure enough he searched for her. Luckily, Professor Snape got in his way.   
Hermione breathed in relief. She held her chest. “I have to admit. This plan was much easier in my head.”  
“What plan?” Luna cocked her head to the side.  
Harry smiled. “Hermione invited Cormac to make someone jealous. I wonder if he’ll show up.”  
She froze. He couldn’t!  
“Show up? He wasn’t invited! I don’t want him here.”  
He gave her an all-knowing look. “Never stops him any other time, Mione. Why would it this time?”  
All at once she began to panic. Merlin, Godric, and the Holy Ghost, what the bleeding hell would happen if he actually showed up? Cormac was all over her. She was able to pretend for the other attendees that she enjoyed his attention, but if he arrived, he’d know right away it was just for show.   
Christ, she’d have to appear even more excited by her date rather than annoyed. Which she was.   
She still felt his hands and they were across the room.   
“I think he’s noticed you,” Luna said.  
“Who?”  
A hand ran down the spine of her dress and cupped her arse. “There she is. Thought you’d gotten away from me.”  
A man rounded Cormac. He was stout with big frame glasses against his round face. His long grey locks were tied back with a ribbon. He wore dated, lace robes more fitting of a Victorian party. He outstretched his hand to Harry, the only one he bothered to acknowledge.  
“Harry, my boy. There you are!” Professor Slughorn said. He broke through the friendly circle. Cormac pulled Hermione closer to his body, out of the professor’s way as he surrounded her friend. “I’ve been looking for you. Oh, look! You’ve brought a date. Wonderful to meet you.”  
Hermione listened closely, though the conversation was protected by the line of backs at her face.   
There was a mention of a biography. The small man was an author.  
She rolled her eyes.  
“Say, Granger.” Cormac’s hot breath moistened her ear. Just how close did he need to be? “I spy a bit of mistletoe. What do you say we don’t try and spread some holiday cheer?”  
The last bit of tolerance of his lusty desire was summoned up through her. She even tried to relax in his hold, but it was so strong she could not.   
“Tempting,” she breathed. “But I’d hate to miss the party.”  
Someone called for Cormac across the room and he was distracted. She slipped away. Her eyes searched for the perfect opening to fold in before she was spotted and overcome by her date. There were tulle curtains at the end of the office. She stowed away for a moment of peace.   
Her hands brushed her dress frantically. Any trace of his touch off her. She shivered as she thought of a mistletoe kiss with him.   
They’d only just been introduced!   
“Hermione. You alright?” Neville appeared through the split in the curtains. He wore a white uniform with a silver tray laden with snacks in front of him.  
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I am. My date has just been, talkative. I needed some quiet.”  
“Suppose I interrupted that, didn’t I?”  
“Don’t worry, Neville.” She took a piece from his tray. “It isn’t your voice that annoys me. What are you doing here anyway?”  
He relaxed his shoulders. “I didn’t get an invite to the party. Serving it was the next best thing. I can say I was here.”  
“That’s true.” She smiled. She reached over and adjusted the black bowtie. “And you can say you were one of the best dressed.”  
Neville blushed. “Oh. Thanks.”  
“Longbottom,” a hammered Professor Slughorn cried. “Where is that blimey sweet tray?”   
The professor removed his hat as he searched the crowd. He was unstable. Again, he held his hand against a wall to keep from falling over.   
“Gotta go.” Neville exited quickly. He thrust the tray out for the party guests to munch on.  
It was what she needed, a stolen moment away, to recharge her energy to withstand her dates wiles. She rejoined the party. Her cup was filled once more. She sipped on the rim as Professor Trelawney complained of her new assistant teacher.   
Harry approached her quietly. They shared a smile as the professor continued to drain cup after cup of alcohol.  
“There you are, you slippery minx.”  
“You found me.” She fluttered her eyelashes. It was one of the few tips of Ginny’s she used.   
Cormac gave a cheeky grin. “You like a bit of chase, don’t you?”  
She swallowed a gulp of mead. “Love it.”  
Hermione allowed Cormac to pull her into a dance. She handed her glass to Harry with desperate eyes. Any help would have been nice. Harry was full in the power to have stopped the wizard from slipping a hand against her lower back and thrusting his body into hers as they danced.  
Her best friend blushed and looked away. What help that was.  
The music throbbed in the room. A few couples danced. Professor Slughorn danced a merry jig on his own. How he managed to not stumble over his own feet was a mystery.  
She was able to find herself with a bit of enjoyment as she danced. It was meant to be fun. Her feet loosened beneath her. Her date guided her closely, grinding his cock into her over and over. That part shriveled the fun.   
During the dance there was a commotion. Argus Filch burst into the room of dense air full of conversation and laughs with the permanent scowl and hatred of children on his face. In his hold was the collar of _him_.   
She instantly went rigid when she saw his grey eyes scan the room. Cormac held onto her tight enough that her lungs refused to expand. There was no way to push away from him. But push away? That was counterproductive. She had to remain as a happy date to the wizard in order to make another one jealous. He was not the only one with options.   
Her eyes narrowed when he noticed her, with him. His jaw clenched tight.  
“Mister Malfoy?” Slughorn stumbled with his words. “Why, you’re not on the list.”  
“Fine. I was gate crashing,” Draco Malfoy spat. His temper was full of fire as he spoke. More than once his eyes focused in on Cormac’s hold around Hermione’s waist. “Wanted to see if I could get in.”  
Hermione glanced over at Harry. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. What kind of party without Draco Malfoy was a party if he didn’t show up and invite himself? She should have known.   
She looked up at Cormac. “What do you say to another drink?”  
His eyebrows played across his forehead. “Are you trying to get me drunk? Because if so, I can easily help in that pursuit.”  
She smiled as he retreated in hunt for their mead glasses. Her arms crossed her chest in satisfaction as she watched Draco struggle against the teachers. She was ready to see him thrown from the event. That would teach him to be a selfish prat. True to his nature though, Draco was able to talk his way into the party as an uninvited guest. Professor Slughorn welcomed him with a full glass of murky mead.  
Draco glared down at the glass. Not his preferred firewhiskey. That Malfoy entitlement was not impressed with the party. The frown stayed on his face.  
Cormac’s hand returned. This time it slid across her shoulders.  
“Have to keep a hand on you or else you run away,” his smooth voice muttered. “Bottoms up.”  
Their glasses clinked together.   
“McLaggen.” It was Draco Malfoy. Hermione’s blood turned red hot in anticipation. She was proud of the distaste in his features with Cormac’s hands on her. It was difficult to push aside the loyalty she felt for Draco, though. Her plan was much harder than she imagined. She’d been furious when she concocted it. And downright insane when she asked Cormac as her date. Now, she was at war with which emotion should reign. “Didn’t recognize you with Granger under you. That is who it is, isn’t it?”  
Cormac pushed his lips together, very uninterested in Draco’s emergence but not angry either. “Hello Malfoy. Didn’t recognize you seeing as you weren’t on the list.”  
“They can’t keep me away.” Draco’s grey eyes blared bright at Hermione.  
She was under Cormac’s touch. His arm around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side.   
“Hello Hermione,” Draco said.  
“Good evening, Draco.”  
They were rigid in their greetings. Neither one made a personal effort to address the other with more than the acceptance amount of attention.  
“Enjoying the party?” He asked.  
She bobbed her head. “It’s a lovely evening.”  
“We were just doing a bit of dancing before you interrupted,” Cormac mentioned. “Always with the perfect timing, aren’t you Malfoy?”  
“I do what I can.”  
Hermione’s eyes ripped away from Draco’s handsome face in favor of the arrogant face of her date. She stared up through her eyelashes, mustered a breathy voice despite the moisture of bile on her tongue, and said, “There are many chances to dance, Cormac. The common room has a radio.”  
A bit of length came to Cormac’s spine. He was excited. As she could feel on her hip.  
The pair looked at their third party with a bit of frustration. Most would become uncomfortable in the company of whispering dates. But not Draco Malfoy. He stood there, one hand in his pocket, and glared very obviously at their faces.  
She smirked a bit as his eyes followed Cormac’s down the back of her dress.   
It was Draco’s saying that they were **not** anything.   
If they were not any sort of couple, then there was an opening.  
“If you’ll excuse me,” Cormac said, “I think I see a friend. Don’t disappear on me. Hey! Sanguini! Hey, you ghoulish monster. Where you been? We missed you this summer. The hunt was fun. Lots of chasing. You would have loved it.”  
His voice drowned out with the sounds of the other voices of the party. It was lively, cheery. Everyone smiled. Harry finally had an ounce of fun. Luna and he were absorbed in discussion with Neville over something. He laughed. Actually laughed.   
She looked down at her glass of mead. It was not the least bit appetizing, but it had chased away her tension.  
“So, Cormac eh?”  
Draco lingered near. He was closer than before. His voice louder than a whisper.  
“That’s right.” She smiled. “Decided to give it a try. He’s been after me all year.”  
He went stiff. His knees locked. His shoulders heightened in their sockets. The unstoppable black cloud that had the audacity to show up to a party she’d invited him to but declined. It served him right for being miserable. He deserved it. Two days before, Draco made an emotion-filled speech about being a free agent and there were other things in his life that were better spent.   
It hurt Hermione so deep that it awoke a fury. If he was a free agent, then so was she.  
They were friends. Things were peachy between them. Harry and Ron got along with him in a weird, boy way. They were not best friends, but they knew each other pretty well. Draco was best acquired in small servings. But when they were all together, they blended well. The boys did their thing. Subtle competitions and what not. Draco was moody as ever, so he snapped when they joked.  
He sought her out. It was not her that initiated anything. He _pursued_ her.   
Hermione thought there was something between them. They had kissed. The first kiss for the pair of them. Held hands. Visited each other during holidays. He planned to spend time in London over Christmas and invited her to the Malfoy flat in the city.  
Then he just suddenly said that they were not dating and that he could do as he pleased. All she had asked was if he wanted to attend the Christmas Party as her date. That was it. His explosion was not warranted. Neither were the declarations of nothing going on between them. She’d been under the impression there was. Hell, everyone had. If she’d seen him with another witch, she would have been furious.   
The wizard was at liberty to do anything he pleased. Just as she was. If he wanted her to be with someone else, she’d show what it was like for her to be with someone else.   
Cormac McLaggen was similar to Draco. He had money, power, influential friends. Draco despised the wizard because of it. It only made sense for her to use the wizard’s clear interest in her to drive a stake very close to the unfeeling monster’s heart.   
“Thought you had better taste than that,” he snapped.  
Her chest swelled. It ate him up to see them together. Her plan worked.  
She smirked. “Mm. Well, apparently, Professor Slughorn has been wondering when us two were going to get together seeing as we are so into each other.”  
Suck on that, bastard.  
Draco scowled. “That nutter can’t tell the difference mead and piss. Not sure he’s the best judge of character. I find McLaggen too hound-ish. The way he paws at you hasn’t convinced me otherwise.”  
Typical. Insult her date.   
He was lucky that it was her plan, otherwise it would have been hurtful. She might have really liked Cormac. Perhaps. Underneath it all. Every other day, maybe. One word from Draco’s perfectly fanged mouth would have injected venom all over the wizard until she could not stand it.  
Beneath her makeup she was furious. He should have seen that. However, his eyes were lost to the swell of her lips against the rim of her glass, the seductive cut neckline of her tight dress, the dim lights and the way her body swayed with the music. She dressed to kill. And she was ready to the bloody finish.  
“You should know. I don’t mind being pawed at.” She winked.  
That was the final. That was it.   
The blow landed.  
Draco Malfoy’s hands clenched to fists, shattered the glass in his hand, and cut the flesh until deep wounds of red syrup poured from his body. Mead, glass shards and his blood coated her feet.  
“The only way you’re with that idiot is if you’re over me.” His snarl was animalistic. Deep. It resonated within her loins, hot, lustful, desire. Her hands went slippery with sweat. “And I’m not convinced. But believe me, if I hear the start of a whisper, the spread of a rumor, one word, that you kiss him tonight, I’ll kill the idiot myself.”  
He vanquished the mess on the floor and her shoes, but he left the wound on his hand a bleeding mess and stormed off before she had the chance to heal it. Hurt read across his face. His features bled of the emotion.   
Her heart fell to her knees. She wanted to puke and cry and scream.   
It was success. Her plan worked. The ugly bitter taste on her tongue felt different. It was not satisfaction, the sweet taste of revenge.   
Her eyes watered. The effort to not cry rose but would not hold long. She was too upset.   
Harry locked eyes with her, struggling against her own sobs. He pulled her out of the light of the party and asked her what happened.  
She tried to control herself. Her chest rattled with threatening cries.   
“He’s such an idiot. I hate him. I hate Draco.” She wiped below her eyes to keep the damage minimal. Not that it mattered. Her mood to party was wiped clean. She just wanted to fall into a hot bath and forget. “If he didn’t have the ego the size of Scotland, he might have actually come to the party with me and had fun. For once.”  
Harry sighed. “He likes the easy way. Just not when he should take it.”  
“What more can I do? Harry? What can I do for him that I haven’t already?”  
Laughter. She heard laughter. Jolly times. Alcohol a distinct scent in the air. Music and dancing. The party was fun. Her heart yearned for that fun with them out there. But as she spied her date from across the room, she realized how wrong it felt. It would not be fun with him. She wanted Draco. He was the one that would have made it fun.  
Harry continued to rub her back in comfort. Luna soon found her and joined in, though not certain why.  
They made her feel well enough to stand the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower. Alone. She said goodnight to the pair and quietly exited before Professor Slughorn was able to make a scene of it. His back was turned, thanks to a distraction caused by Harry, and Hermione snuck out the pair of doors without a sound.  
It was a long ceremony of removing the party from her. She was in the Prefect bathroom on the fifth floor. The Gryffindor Tower was aware of the party and awaited her return to the Tower. Her roommates asked of the party. Romilda Vane asked who Harry brought. She was bitter of his refusal to ask her. Lavender was too smitten over Ron to talk about anything else. Pavarti offered up a kind smile. She was the only one who seemed to notice Hermione’s disappointment. She said, “You look partied out.”  
“I am,” Hermione hollowly answered. “I think I’ll take a bath. Don’t wait up.”  
She grabbed her pajamas, and her face wash and headed down to forget the Christmas Party ever happened.  
The next morning, Hogwarts buzzed with excitement. Everyone wanted to hear about the party. They asked of the music, and the teachers, and who else was there, how did Draco get in without an invitation, who kissed under the mistletoe. It was all Hermione heard.   
Word about her and Cormac must had spread around. There were many looks for lots of different people as she ate her breakfast. She noticed their long gazes with curiosity.   
Cormac openly spoke of his attraction to her. Why was everyone surprised they attended together?  
“What do you think that’s all about?” She asked Harry and Ron. They sat across from her. Their backs blocked out the entire section of Slytherin table that she wanted to avoid.   
Her heart was heavy about Draco. Her thoughts, heavier still. She wanted to forget him for one blessed moment and enjoy a meal where he had not stomped on her heart and threw it away.   
The bland, empty white stare of her oatmeal was unappealing. She ate it without joy. A frown kept returning to her face. Tears were all depleted from the night before, but if the reserves hadn’t been used up, she might have cried about that oatmeal. It was so sad. Pathetic. Useless. And it brought no joy to eat it.  
“Who cares?” Ron shrugged. “Do you think a bit of balm will help?”  
Harry’s eyes bulged when he noticed Ron’s expectant gaze. “What?”  
“The snogging. It’s made my lips sore. See?”  
He pushed his lips forward. Harry fell back in his seat, surprised. As if Ron was going to kiss him.  
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yes, Ron. Lip balm. You need some. Badly.”  
He nodded. His sister was a bit farther down the table. Unlike a normal person might have done, standing up and walking down for a private conversation, Ron thought it best to just yell for his sister’s attention.  
“Ginny. Ginny. Ginny! Oi, you got lip balm?”  
A roll of chuckles echoed the question.   
The red head peaked through the gaggle of younger students. “Sure. But it’s pink.”  
“Me lips are pink. It doesn’t matter.” Ron’s hand reached out for it.  
Hermione, yet again, rolled her eyes. “If you were a fish, you’d drown Ronald. Here. Take mine. It’s clear. No one will be the wiser.”  
“Except the Great Hall,” Harry pointed out with a smile. “They’ll all know Ron wants to feel pretty.”  
The lip balm applied evenly across the great ridges of cracked flesh on Ron’s lips. It looked painful. She winced as he pressed into them hard.   
When he was done, he rubbed the lips together to spread it around. His green eyes said all their thanks. Hermione nodded her head. She sipped from her teacup with a relief that the idiocy of wizards was through. For now.  
“Just so you know, Harry. I am already pretty,” Ron said. “Pink lip balm can’t create a face like this. It can only help.”  
Hermione and Harry locked eyes. They waited for the other to break the silence. It was difficult. She felt the rolling chuckle of laughter in her belly. Harry, too, by the struggle in his eyes, was ready to burst. When they did, they laughed hysterically. Ron blushed and said they were embarrassing him. That only made them laugh harder.  
It was a nice reprieve from depression. Laughter. Her stomach uncurled ever so slight as her mood lightened.  
Right on the downslide of her laughter, a hand tapped on Hermione’s shoulder. Confused, she turned around.  
“Can I help you?” She asked.  
There were two wizards. Older, since she did not recognize them. One was a Hufflepuff and the other a Gryffindor. They presented themselves oddly. She was uncertain exactly what they wanted.  
“I’m Aidan,” the Hufflepuff said with a flip of his dirty blonde hair. “And this is Gawain.”  
She wrinkled her forehead. “Hello.”  
“Hello,” they both said. Their smiles consumed their faces. They shared a look that seemed of conspiring.   
She shifted in her seat.  
“Thought you might like to come down to the Black Lake later,” Gawain said. He touched his curly red hair. “A few of us are going for a swim later. Cormac told us you’re cool to hang out with.”  
Cormac said what?  
She bit her tongue. “Well thank you for the invitation but I’ve got to study.”  
“We can study.” Aidan nodded eagerly. Along with Gawain.  
“No,” she muttered softly. “That’s alright. I like to do studying on my own. But thanks.”  
Hermione grabbed ahold of her satchel. Quickly she slung it over her shoulder. She said goodbye to Harry and Ron, and then Aidan and Gawain since they still stood there. Awkwardly, she noted.   
She shrugged and exited the Great Hall. A sea of eyes behind her.  
“Am I the only one not mental?” She mumbled to herself.   
The rest of the morning went similarly. Many wizards, mostly older, introduced themselves to her and asked to help her with various tasks. It made her spine shiver. In the course of a few hours, she met almost the entire seventh year wizard population, one that remained anonymous for six years.   
Then there were the horrid stares that a few witches gave her. She did a double take because she thought one girl was choking. It turned out just to be an awful glare in Hermione’s direction.  
Hermione needed fresh air. The castle was thick with nonsense. She bee lined straight for the quad for a breath when she heard a savage grunting. Like a struggle. There were clatters and thuds. A few gasps, too.  
She followed the sounds out to where a physical fight sounded.   
Out in the grass and stone of the ancient quad, meant as a relaxed gathering place for students in between classes in search of a bit of freshness to the stagnant air of the deep castle, was an altercation. A fight. What an insult to the school.  
Hermione went forward intent to tell them as much, deduct points for being absolute wankers, when she saw their faces.  
Draco and Cormac!  
Draco’s shirt was untucked. Filth was smeared down the lengths of his black robes and pants. Down the length of his cheek was a red-hot scrape. The flesh looked like it hurt.   
Cormac had a busted lip. His shirt was untucked, too. Tie loosened.  
“Come on. You saw her. She wanted it.”  
Draco raised a finger. “Don’t. You. Dare.”  
Cormac chuckled. “Are you jealous, Malfoy? Is that it? You’re jealous she chose me and not you.” There was genuine cheer in his voice. “You just have to wait in line. You’ll have your turn. I’ll have her nice and learned, but by then, she might be hooked.”  
It happened so fast. Draco turned red. His fist raised and connected with the corner of Cormac’s jaw in a deafening crunch. It was either Cormac’s jaw or Draco’s hand that broke. The recoil was filled with pain. It looked as if they both winced from injuries.   
However, Cormac was not a bashful opponent. His arms grabbed Draco’s side and held him there as he raised his knee. It thudded against Draco’s chest. His face twisted in anger as he pushed out his arms and latched onto Cormac’s ankle on the down swing. He pulled it with all his might.   
Cormac lost his stance and fell to the ground, taking Draco with him. Their bodies tangled in a heap. They both fought for dominance. Draco was a bit faster. He climbed atop the Gryffindor’s chest and swung another punch. It landed on the side of Cormac’s face.   
Hermione watched horrified, as more and more people gathered around. She was too shocked to do anything. Her mind barely comprehended it.   
What was going on?  
Cormac landed a kick to Draco’s side. He exhaled a sharp grunt as he took the blow.  
A few young Ravenclaw wizards stood wide eyed at the fight. Their eyes refused to look away from the bloody spill out of Draco’s nose as Cormac kicked him right in the face.  
It was the reminder that she needed. She was a Prefect.   
“Draco!” She hissed.  
He stopped. His face was surprised. He hadn’t seen her approach.  
In his cease, Cormac managed to throw his arms around Draco’s arms and pinned them to his side as Cormac thrust Draco to the ground with himself on top.   
Hermione gasped. “Cormac! Stop it! You’re going to hurt him.”  
The wizards attacked each other with such vigor. There was genuine rage inside Draco as he took hit after hit. He used his legs and arms and hands and once his forehead to defend himself.  
A crowd had now gathered. They all urged the two on.  
“Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.”  
Her cries were drowned out. “No. No. Stop! Don’t do this!”  
Harry and Ron wiggled through the crowd. They stood next to her, equally shocked by the fight.  
Physical fights were not common on Hogwarts ground. Most preferred to duel with wands.   
What had happened to their wands?  
“Look at the bloke go!” Ron said in awe. “He’s kicking Cormac’s arse.”  
“It’s not a good thing Ronald!”  
A sudden cheering section appeared behind them. There were limbs of so many around their necks and faces as they cheered. Harry’s glasses fell off his face. He wrinkled his nose as he grasped through the grass.  
Ron pushed a few people away. They just returned and pushed back harder.  
With his full vision restored, Harry pulled Hermione close and whispered, “Word has it that you and Cormac shagged last night after the Slug Club.”  
“What!” She shrieked. “We certainly did not. You saw me leave. Alone. The girls in the Tower saw me return that night without him.”  
“That’s just what he’s told everyone,” Harry explained.   
It all made sense. The older wizards. The stares. The glares from witches she didn’t know. They all thought she slept with Cormac.  
How mortifying!  
A hot blush consumed her face. She shielded her face from everyone.   
The crowd echoed a sound of a painful “ooh”. Someone must have gotten hurt.  
The professors were quick to dispel quarrels in the school. It would not be long now before they came to punish the fighters and shoo away the crowd. Draco and Cormac would be punished. But it was clear that Draco was the one that started the fight.   
Then it hit her.   
He knew that she hadn’t slept with Cormac. He knew that she would not shag anyone yet.   
It was for her honor that Draco fought.   
Water rushed to her eyes as she watched them strain. Cormac managed to pin one arm behind Draco’s back, but Draco’s legs were so long that they easily managed to rear up and kick the wizard in the thigh wickedly close to the center of his pants. Part of her wished he’d landed a tad to the left. It was hard to shag with a broken erection, wasn’t it?  
“Kick his slippery arse!” An older Gryffindor yelled. Obviously in support of Cormac.  
Ron had his fist pumped high in the air. “Don’t you take that Malfoy! Swing on him. Get it. Get it.”  
She wanted to chastise him for encouraging the fight, but it was a lost cause. The entire student body seemed to be encouraging it. At least he cheered for the right wizard.  
“Your boyfriends got him good,” Ronald exclaimed. “Cormac’s a bit bigger, but Malfoy’s got some stealth.”  
There was a loud crunch that radiated through the quad. Hermione shoved her way forward. Draco’s arm was beneath Cormac’s foot. Although he was in pain – clear by the tense look on his face – Draco kicked at Cormac’s legs.   
He was about to stomp on Draco’s arm another time after having broke it already, Hermione let out a shrill scream.  
It stopped everyone: their breaths, the wind, the flow of time. It all froze.   
And it was the opening that Draco needed to put his feet below him and drive his shoulder into Cormac’s hip. Cormac dropped to the stone ground. It vibrated the ground. Air forced out of Cormac’s lungs. He exhaled in ragged breaths.  
It was obvious that he would not be getting back up.  
Draco, unsteady from his broken arm and possible broken hand, wavered as he stood over his opponent, breathed in thick heavy breaths but still managed to muster up a bit of strength to speak. Blood dribbled from the corner of his stormy eyes. They were narrowed. He brushed his disfigured hand against his face.  
A line of blood smeared across his cheek.  
The crowd stood shocked. Dropped jaws, silence, wide eyed.  
Hermione bit back a smug satisfaction. Anyone who doubted his strength deserved to be stunned.  
“Granger,” groaned up out of his throat. It took him a few tries to find the power to say it away. “Granger is not your witch. Keep your bloody hands off her. And if I ever hear you say you shagged her, which I know is a fuckin’ lie, I’ll come back and break your neck.”  
He started to stagger. One knee bent below. He caught himself, but barely rose again.  
Hermione rushed out to his side. She tossed his unbroken arm over her shoulder and shifted his weight onto her. “Come on, you. Let’s get you to hospital.”  
She stepped over Cormac, who moaned on the ground holding his face. It was swollen. Same as Draco’s. Not nearly as handsome with broken bits like Draco was.   
“Grab his things, Harry!” She shouted over her shoulder.  
While her friends gathered up Draco’s mess on the quad and shooed the crowd back into the castle, Hermione helped the invalid take on the long task of visiting the hospital wing. It was a silent march. Much was focused on keeping his body elevated and not touched by anything on the way.   
Out the corner of her eye, she observed her wounded protector with a subtle smile. The wizard who protected her honor. As barbaric and stupid as it was, there was a smidge of romance in it. Deep down.   
He winced with each step. Blood dripped onto her neck as she helped him along. He was stronger than his slender body appeared to be. She knew it was true on the Quidditch Pitch, but it was truer off of it.   
“Listen, Draco. About Cormac,” she murmured.   
“Forget it,” he said. His white teeth were bloody in his mouth.   
She huffed. She never knew a Slytherin to be as stubborn as a Gryffindor. “No, really. Cormac - .”  
“Don’t say his name. Just don’t say it, alright? I’m tempted to kill him for even uttering your name not to mention what he said he did to you.” Draco spit out a thick glop of his own coagulated blood onto the stone floor. She grimaced as it splattered against the grey hues of the ancient castle.   
Her wand was tucked away in her back pocket out of reach or she would have cleaned it.  
“You didn’t have to do that for me, Draco.”  
“Yes. I did.”  
“No. I mean, I appreciate it. And Harry and Ron would have done it if you hadn’t, but you shouldn’t - .”  
He suddenly growled. “Harry? Ron? You think they have more right than me?”  
“We’re all friends,” she retorted as he helped him climb a stair. Godric. For a skinny guy he really felt heavy on the shoulder. “They are just as much able as you are.”  
Draco stopped. His eyes narrowed.  
“Even you don’t believe that.”  
“Sure, I do. After all, we’re not anything,” she said. There was a bit more vengeance left than she anticipated. It came off stronger than she meant.  
He snarled. “So, you just call my bluff with that guy? That guy you let run his hands all over you just to prove me wrong!”  
“You said we’re not together, so I showed you how **not** together we are.”  
Draco clenched his hands, and then yelled out his agony when he was reminded that one hand was broken. The shield of his emotions dropped. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to pass.  
She hoisted his hold farther across her shoulders. “Head on. Madame Pomphrey will fix you up in a heartbeat.”  
Madame Pomphrey was not a fan of Draco Malfoys. The feeling was mutual. They groaned the entire time they were forced to deal with one another. Draco was a handful. Madame Pomphrey was a bit of a mother hen. Their personalities butted together much like Hermione’s and his. Only this wasn’t formed by sexual tension. Madame Pomphrey and Draco legitimately disliked one another.  
The medi-witch wiped her hands down her white apron as Hermione brought Draco into the room, a sloping grimace on her face.  
“What is it this time? Mister Malfoy, I see you’ve been making friends.” She pointed them to an empty cot. Starch white sheets were tucked under a thin mattress. A stiff pillow waited at the head. One chair sat near the bedside with a soft fluffy throw hung off the back. “Should I expect an unfortunate gaggle of bruised first years next?”  
Draco exhaled a sharp warning as the witch’s hand came closer to his face. He batted them away.   
“There will be one more, I’m sure,” Hermione answered.  
Madame Pomphrey looked at the Gryffindor witch with exasperation. “You haven’t tired of these ploys yet, Miss Granger?”  
She shrugged. “I’d have no friends if that were possible.”  
Harry and Ron were plenty constant in the hospital wing. They spent time in the beds there as she had second year. None were great experiences that she wanted repeated, but she liked to believe it would eventually ease.  
“Mister Malfoy. Stop your squirming. I swear, you’re worse than a babe.”  
He growled. “I’d rather have a curse to the head than that juice.”  
“Fine then.” Madame Pomphrey slammed the bottle of Skele-Gro on the bedside table. “I’ll let the pain drive you to reason.”  
Hermione sighed. “Draco, please. Just drink it. It’ll help.”  
Draco laid in the cot of complete white as his blood soaked through the fibers and his shoes dirtied the sheets. He held his hand close to his chest. It remained motionless just as he did. His breath slowed to far and in between as he froze all motion.  
It was not long before Cormac was dragged inside. There was commotion over the fight still in the air. Cormac grunted and groaned while Madame Pomphrey clucked like a chicken to aid his pain. Professor McGonagall was there. She shook her head as she shied Draco’s cot. The witch looked tired. Tired of all the fighting.  
As Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape was called to the hospital wing. Draco was to be punished by his own head of house for starting a fight. Cormac was given a month’s worth of detention for participating. The bruised knuckles proved that. Draco’s punishment was more severe. Detention and suspension from the Quidditch Pitch. That was a wicked harsh blow. Still Draco remained silent in his cot.  
Professor Snape flocked to the edge. He scanned Draco carefully with a spell or two. The professor ignored Hermione’s presence completely. She was happy to ignore the man, too.   
His two hands upheld a spell over Draco’s body. The orange spell reflected an outline of Draco’s body atop the cot. She saw the veins and arteries of his heart course through his limbs. A white throbbing glow rested inside his skull. Two open expanses within her chest were lungs. She actually saw the breath move through his body as he breathed.  
Two areas blinked an urgent red: hand and forearm.   
“Mister Malfoy,” Professor Snape pronounced in his exaggerated low tone, “are you in pain?”  
“No. I prefer to lay still for fun,” Draco snipped.  
Although his eyes remained closed, it was clear that Draco was wide awake. The pain probably drowned out the exhaustion he felt. Adrenaline from the fight still coursed his tissue. That would take time to dissipate.  
The icy stare of Professor Snape’s dark eyes had little effect on the Slytherin wizard in the bed. He crossed his arms and broke the spell.  
“You’ll need a sleeping draught and a potion for the pain,” he said.  
“Love some,” Draco answered.  
“And that Skele-Gro.”  
Draco rumbled a growl at the back of his throat.   
She felt uncomfortable a witness to the interaction between the pair. Like a bystander into personal business. Her legs unfurled from the chair.  
Her hands touched the side of Draco’s cot. “I’ll just be going…”  
“Sit your arse back down,” Draco said. “Professor Snape was just leaving to get me my potions.”  
Her cheeks flushed a bright pink as the professor rolled his eyes. He left with a violent sigh.   
She untucked her curls. “Why do I have to stay?”  
“I didn’t just pommel my body to have you go back to that tosser, McLaggen. I want you right here. Holding my hand. Kissing my cheek. Telling me that I’m the bravest wizard you know.”  
She crossed her arms. “I don’t do any of those! And I didn’t ask you to fight him. That was your own male ego that you had to dominate him in front of the whole school. Godric, what will everyone think?”  
A sick smile spread across his face. “They’ll think you’re mine.”  
She slapped his shin, albeit with a gentle hand, since he was in a lot of pain because of her. No matter how much she did not want to admit it. His bravery was rather appealing.   
“But I’m not, am I?” She said softly. “I’m not anything.”  
Draco released a long breath. His eyes opened. Slowly. They winced as he stared at the white light above his head. He turned his face ever so slight so that the rest of his body did not move with him.   
Grey moon orbs in his eyes gazed up from his cot. “What else do I have to do? Salazar, Hermione. We aren’t people who date. Dating is lame. Look at Ron and that annoying blonde girl. That’s what kids our age do. Frolic in fields, snogging and giving each other necklaces. I’m not that wizard. I’m never going to be that one. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be shagging a witch that isn’t you.”  
She cinched her arms tighter against her body. “I want you to want me. With words. _Tell_ me what things are with us. Because I’m tired of being jealous of Pansy if I have no right to be.”  
“Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll use my words about how things are. I’ll use my fuckin’ words, is that what you want?” He swallowed. “But you can’t be mad what comes of it. Because this is what you asked for.”  
A horrid retching split the air. A gush splattered against the tile floor. The overwhelmed scent filled the air.  
Cormac puked up his Skele-Gro. That burned twice as harsh in the twisted heat of bile.  
Draco scowled deeply. “Now you know why I don’t want to drink it.”  
“Because of the smell?”  
“No. Because I don’t want to have the sound of my puke hitting the floor be forever etched in your mind when you think of this,” he muttered. His eyes shuttered closed.  
She chuckled. “Oh yes. Because I should be proud of this. I should look back on this with fond memories.”  
His eyes flew open. “I just beat up a wizard for you. He called you a whore. Did you hear that? He said that you shagged him. That you wanted it. It was easy to slide your knickers down to your ankles.”  
She huffed. “That doesn’t make it true! For Godric sake, if I heard Pansy say that you shagged, I wouldn’t believe it.”  
“Oh really?” His eyebrow arched.  
She bit her lip. “No. I wouldn’t.”  
Her palms went sweaty. She dragged them down her stomach. Her stomach twisted and twirled.  
Pansy Parkinson was a wealthy, traditional witch. Not unlike Draco. They were raised in the same circles, with the same influence, the same traditions. A relationship between them was expected. It made sense. More sense than a muggleborn witch of modest upbringing and a lavish overflow of wealth pureblood.   
It made her bitter. A bit.   
“Say, Pansy came in here right now and mounted me. You’d be fine with it?”  
Her jaw dropped. “Absolutely not!”  
Anger was a palpable taste on her tongue. She knew that if Pansy emerged, even with the most innocent of intentions, Hermione would hex her to high heaven. Draco was not to be mounted by any witches. Not if she had a thing to do with it.  
“Not only is it improper to shag whilst in the middle of a hospital,” Hermione snapped. “You’ve just broken yourself for me! What kind of wizard fights for one witch then shags another the next minute?” Her voice was unrecognize within her mind. She heard it like a frantic mess of a witch.   
A hot mess was not what Hermione Granger was.  
Stiff in his bed, Draco smirked. One eye peeked open.  
“So, we aren’t dating,” he said. “We just can’t date anyone else.”  
She unclenched her fists. “Like hell. If you don’t want to date me - .”  
“Right. You’ll shag Cormac and I’ll beat the bloody piss out of him. Every. Time. Then I’ll kiss Pansy. You’ll curse her then you’ll curse me for kissing another witch. It will be all fun and games as we date our way through the entire school, cursing and fighting everyone until there is no one left. Is that it? Is that what we should do?”  
“If you weren’t such a coward, we could save the school the trouble and just shag right now. But no.” She threw her arms up in the air. “No, we have to do this way. Because dating is just so immature and lame that Draco Malfoy can’t be bothered. Even if it means missing out on the best girlfriend he’d ever have.”  
He was finally bothered enough to open his eyes and look her in the eye. It was not a large enough triumph. All the pain he caused just because he was too proud or too scared to ask her to be his girlfriend. What kind of wizard was he? Did he enjoy torturing her?   
It hurt each time. A little piece of her broke away when he denied her. One day. One day, she’d not return.  
After she had her fill of slag blood.   
Draco used his one good arm to raise himself. He now sat in the bed, his face only slightly lower than her own. “How can a witch like you be reduced to a term like girlfriend? Sweetie? Hun? Hermione Granger, the great magnificent witch of the century a _girlfriend_ of some Malfoy kid. Do you see how pathetic that is? You’re much more than that. I can’t have you believing my intentions are something like that of Weasley’s when I love you so much more than that.”  
All breath rushed out her lips. “You love me?”  
“See? I told you be careful what you wish for,” he said. “I warned you of what truth telling does.”  
She leaned forward and ran her finger down the length of his cheek. The scraped flesh was torn in minute places across his face. Small droplets of plasma rested there. It flared his face a shade similar to her peach, rather than his ice-cold porcelain.   
His eyes blared in their intensity as she caressed his face gently. When her eyes finally met his, she gave his uninjured cheek a swat. “Drink your Skele-Gro. Prat.”  
“That’s all you have to say to me?”  
She nodded. Her things were tossed into the chair. The dense outer robes of her school uniform, the jumper beneath that. She shred of her things with ease.   
It was cute how hard Draco hid his confusion. The lingering of his eyes on her body were difficult to ignore as they perused with intensity, but she pretended to be absorbed into arranging the removed elements of her uniform.  
Her hair was tussled at her shoulders as she perched on the side of his cot. His eyes were deliciously narrow.   
She grasped the bottle. “Tuck in.”  
“What are you playing at?” He questioned.  
Hermione gave a cheeky smile as raised the lip of the bottle toward his mouth. “We’ve got plans tonight that require two arms, and definitely two hands if it’s going to be any good.”


End file.
